Petunia was always the worse sister - not as pretty, not as kind and especially not as magical as Lily. Jealousy and bitterness rule her life, until one fateful encounter changes her destiny ...
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Petunia was always the lesser out of the two Evaness...
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Ivy wound through Petunia's fingers like molten quicksilver, a strangely childish and at the same undoubtedly elegant display with her undulating, glittering scales catching the magical sunlight overhead.
"She must have missed you," Eugene said and Petunia tried to hide her glee at the thought, though a pleased flush on her cheeks gave her away.
"I'm no longer surprised that my father offered for you to come by. He surely saw how attached she was. He can always judge beasts much more accurately than people."
Petunia glanced up at the mention of his father, now recognizing it for the touchy subject it was, but Eugene's face was relaxed. He was sitting opposite her in the softly rustling grass, leaned back on his hands, his legs crossed haphazardly. His clothes were once again ones that should really see the inside of a bin or at least an attentive hand at sewing, but until now Petunia had managed to stop herself from commenting on it. Soft golden light was playing along his ruffled hair and relaxed mouth which quirked into a small grin upon meeting Petunia's inquisitive gaze.
Ivy slowed her circuits and curled in Petunia's palm, butting the distracted girl's fingers with her snout. A faint chirp sounded and then Petunia heard her own voice admit: "I missed her, too."
Her eyes were still on Eugene though and for just a second she feared she had misspoken and said I missed you, too.
But he didn't scoff or laugh or recoil, so Petunia refilled her tight lungs and assured herself that she hadn't allowed herself that horrid slip of tongue. Eugene's chocolate eyes were drawing her in though, like trickery quicksand, so she quickly looked back at Ivy, saying the first thing that popped into her head: "I think she's falling asleep."
"No wonder, she's been trying to tie herself into a brezel between your fingers for almost an hour now. I'm honestly surprised she managed to keep it up for so long."
"She has a lot of energy."
"Certainly more than her siblings." Eugene nodded at the big nest behind Petunia which contained a number of curled up, slumbering Occamies. Tall stalks of bamboo surrounded them and Petunia once more marvelled at the idea of being in a cellar (Eugene had told her that they were underground) while everything around made her believe she was outside - fresh air, a warm breeze and trickling sunlight.
Ivy had laid her head between folds of her own body, her wings tucked in tight and Petunia carefully stood up and placed her in a free space between her siblings. Gazing at the soft tufts of feathers intermingled with scales she felt a strange drop in her stomach, a yearning that was unreasonable but no less strong for its futility. She wanted to pack Ivy into a bag and take her back home, to her room - to Lily and her parents and whoever else might discover her in time.
And then what? The ministry, she thought and the drop in her stomach turned into a nauseating lurch.
